The Lonely Feast Last night at dinner I regaled friends with something I had witnessed. I threatened to make a post about it here, and so am duly fulfilling my promise.

We have two toilets upstairs. For reasons not fully known to me, we choose to use the one that is little bigger than a cubicle you would find in a typical public washroom. That's shower and WC combined. It is also dark and lit by a single bare light bulb. Whereas the other one is large and airy - we have never loved it and use it only sparingly. So I walk in there one day, and this is what I see:

It is really a rather large cockroach, deep rust brown in color, so large indeed that the sharp filaments on its segmented legs appear fully articulated in texture. It is chomping away at a bar of soap left on the sink like it is the feast of kings. From where I stand (which some distance, let me tell you. I have a deep phobia of roaches), I can see it working its jaws enthusiastically, shoveling mouthfuls of soap into its belly. It is almost a plateau surrealistic scene. The white tiles of the bathroom are pristine, light fills the space, and this creature making merry upon my bar of medicated soap. There was that distinct metallic smell of cockroaches in the air - sharp and slightly sweet. I was fascinated. I cannot say why.  ¶ 8:55 PM